


Heat

by Killermanatee



Series: Desires [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dom/sub Play, Dominance, Dominant Chakotay, Established Relationship, F/M, PWP, Romance, Shameless Smut, Wax Play, loving relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee
Summary: "He loves to make me wait, to build up the anticipation. He loves it, because he knows it drives me insane. The dull ache in my core has already formed and soon it will turn into a need only he can satisfy."





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackVelvet42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for the wonderful BlackVelvet42, who doesn't just write beautiful bdsm smut, but has also become a dear friend.  
> I truly cherish all of our chats and hope you'll enjoy this little fic as a way for me to thank you. :)

 

When dinner consisted of a salad accompanied by water, I knew he had something planned. Whenever he does, he makes sure I have had something light to eat and neither of us has consumed any alcohol. Needless to say, the sight of dinner immediately sent heat between my thighs.

Of course, Chakotay knows this. The rules we have set were put in place for safety but have long since become part of the experience. So we sat together, enjoying our dinner and talked about our day, our conversation incredibly mundane, compared to the rising excitement for the night.

While we talked, I was intensely aware of the low light provided by the candles, the soft touch of our calves under the table. He loves to make me wait, to build up the anticipation and make me guess what he has planned. He loves it, because he knows it drives me insane. The dull ache in my core has already formed and soon it will turn into a need to be touched, to find release, a need only he can satisfy.

Finally he clears the table and when he sits back down he reclines in his chair, giving me a long look. His expression changes, becomes stern and that simple shift makes my knees weak.

“Do you need anything before we get started?

I shake my head.

“Good. Then take off your clothes.” His voice is low, commanding and hits me like electricity.

Almost automatically I get up and begin to undo my jacket, my hands trembling with anticipation.

In the flicker of the candle his features look sharper than usual, his eyes are darker and he has taken control. He appears calm and collected but he follows my every movement, and is intensely focused on me as I undress.

When I have finally shed the last of my clothes, he takes his time, considers me standing across the table, completely bare. Maybe I should feel the chill of the room, but my nerves are buzzing, and without seeing it, I know my skin is flushed from arousal. My breasts ache to be squeezed, my nipples need to be pulled and twisted, my thighs are pressed together in an attempt to relieve the tension as I am anxious for him to fill me.

Finally he rises and steps around the table to stop in front of me. Without my shoes, my face is level with his broad chest and in contrast to my nudity he strikes an imposing figure, all broad shoulders in his command uniform. He is just close enough for me to see his dilated pupils, but too far to feel his body heat. His dark eyes focus on me like there is nothing else in the galaxy and nobody has ever made me feel so desired, so wanted, so deeply sexual.

When he speaks, his voice washes over me, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I love to see you like this, bare and exposed. You are so pristine, flawless.” He traces a finger along my neck, down the hollow of my throat, between my breasts and finally circles it around one nipple. My lids flutter and my lips part as a quiet moan escapes. “I can’t wait to see you fall apart for me.”

He removes his finger and the loss of contact feels like a magnetic pull, causing me to sway. He grins in reply.

“Don’t worry. I have a wonderful night planned for you. If you behave, that is. Go to the bedroom, lay down on your stomach, arms under your head. Do not touch yourself. I will know if you did. And don’t move. Understood?”

“Yes.” My reply comes without hesitation and I turn to follow his instructions.

\---

I have to concentrate on every breath to keep from squirming, from rubbing myself against our sheets. I need this release like I need air but I have to follow his orders. So I lay here, focused on the rise and fall of my back as my cheek is pressed into my arms on the pillow, eyes on the doorway, silently begging for him to join me. My legs are slightly spread, inviting whatever he has planned.

Finally he appears. He has taken off his jacket and boots and looks absolutely stunning in nothing but his uniform shirt and pants. The obvious sign of his arousal makes me bite my lip.

He walks around so I can no longer see him but I hear him arranging items on our dresser. There are so many wonderfully torturous devices hidden in there and he has used them all on me in various ways. So even though I don’t know what he has planned, I trust completely that I will enjoy it. He is nothing if not thoughtful in his deviant ways.

Finally I feel the mattress dip and my muscles tense with anticipation of what is to come. The soft caress of his hand is almost shocking when he begins to run along my back, across my shoulders, down to my behind and my thighs. His care soothes me, relaxes my muscles and the moment I sigh in content I know he has planned this. He has planned for me to be completely relaxed, to stop anticipating. Because the shock of the first hot drop of wax hitting between my shoulder blades makes me gasp. It is instantly followed by another, then another and as they burn into my skin I squirm.

“Shhhh”, his voice is low, going straight through me, and he places one large hand across my lower back, holding me in place “stay still, remember? Or do you need me to tie you down?”

His voice may be stern but he is still concerned, assuring my enjoyment.

I shake my head slightly. “No. I want to try.”

“Okay. But you won’t like the repercussions if you don’t obey.” With that he digs his fingers into my buttocks just hard enough to hurt, but not nearly enough for pleasure.

The wax on my back has cooled and I wonder if my skin is showing effects, if he is painting my back in red, like he has done so many times with his hand and fingernails. I want these marks to last beyond tonight, I want to feel their sting against my clothes, the reminder of what we share, when I lean back in my command chair.  

I have been so lost in the future, he must have noticed because next I feel heat splattering on the middle of my back. I hiss at the spikes it sends through me and am instantly brought back to the here and now. It takes all of my control not to move under the heat, even as it cools.

Chakotay shifts and he must be setting the candle aside because the next moment he straddles my thighs, and with a sharp pang of arousal I realize he must have fully undressed when he was getting ready. His bare skin scorches mine even more than any candle could and when he leans forward to rake his nails over me, scraping away the dried wax, his erection rubs between my buttocks. The combination of him being so close to where I need him most and the scratch along my tender skin he is exposing from under the wax causes me to groan. There is a wet spot forming on the sheets between my thighs and it takes all of my self-control not to move, to remain still even though I am craving release so much I may burst.

He rocks his hips slightly back and forth, just enough to tease me, to let me feel his full length. His nails are still digging into my raw skin. “If you could see yourself right now. All long lines and tense muscles and beautiful red marks. You skin is so pristine, you have no idea what it does to me to know that I get to mark you as mine.”

He leans forward and sinks his teeth into my neck. It’s not hard enough to draw blood but I know I will bear his sign for a few days. I whimper at this sense of being owned in combination to the added friction of him against my behind. “Please…” I beg and my voice is barely audible with my strain.

He sits back and when he gets off my legs the coldness he leaves behind sends desperate tears to my eyes.

“Turn around” he commands and I eagerly do, not even caring that I am now laying in the cooling wet spot I have created on the sheets. But just as I hoped, my back is tender against the sheets.

He is kneeling next to me, this beautiful man who calls me his and my insides have been wrought together so tightly by my need for him I shed a tear.

Instantly his hand is on my cheek, wiping it away and he presses his lips to mine, soft and tender and in stark contrast to the commanding dominance he has shown since dinner. His eyes are warm and caring when he ends the kiss and my lips are left tingling.

“Kathryn, this is me checking in. Are we okay?”

I smile up at him. “Yes, very much, please, I want more. I need you. I need to come.” I bite my lip at my confession.

He shifts instantly and easily back into his dominant role, leans back and holds my chin in his strong hand. “So you need to come? I am sorry, I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

A sob makes it way up to my throat at his promise. I need to climax. I want him so much, want to feel him plunging into me, taking me, but we both know how much more rewarding it will be after he has denied me.

So I watch the muscles move under his skin as he leans over me, expertly tying the ropes which secure my wrists to the bed above my head. He moves to wrap ropes around my ankles, spreading my legs in the process. My breathing is still heavy and the smell of my arousal potent but yet he seems as calm as always, or rather restrained, as I know from experience. After so much time together I know his tells, see the tension in his neck, see his jaw move as he keeps himself under control. He is strung just as tightly as I am, maybe not controlled by rope or submission, but I know he wants me as much as I want him, he is simply better at controlling his needs.

Finally he stands back and looks me over, sending electricity from my fingertips down to my core. He seems content with his work and then one hand cups his balls, tugs at them like I want to do so badly. His abdomen twitches as he strokes himself and he hums. “You are quite the sight. I could finish just staring at you, all tied up, stretched and wanting.”

My entire torso tenses, my muscles constrict, hands and feet testing the bonds I know won’t break.

He steps closer, right up to the bed and I can’t help but stare at his fist, still pumping slowly. I lick my lips as I look at the first drop of his arousal. I want him. I want him inside. I don’t even care in which way as long as I get to feel him.

He grabs the candle and then kneels on the bed, right by my head and finally he presses his member to my lips, just enough for me to taste, to hungrily lean towards him, desperate, wanting, almost frenzied. He laughs at that.

“So needy.”

And finally, blissfully, he sinks into my mouth, hot and rigid and I eagerly suck him in, using my tongue as much as I can. I am so focused on feeling him, the splash of hot wax on my chest would make me yelp, if the noise wasn’t muffled against his flesh. The drops run down between my breasts, the first sting turning into a pleasant warmth until it pools at my sternum.

His hips move forward and he hits the back of my throat. When he pulls back, a string of saliva glistens on him and I can feel the wetness around my lips. My tongue darts out, circling his tip and he groans.

I am rewarded with more wax, this time dropped from closer to my skin, hotter, making me hiss. He pushes back inside my mouth and the next drops hit my breasts, circle my nipples and it hurts so wonderfully I wish I could scream.

Instead I focus on him, trying so hard to ignore the painful emptiness between my wet folds.

The wax isn’t hot enough to truly burn my skin but I am hoping with everything I am that he will scratch it off like he did on my back and that maybe after that he will finally let me climax. I am sure I will go insane if he doesn’t.

He pulls free of my mouth, almost reluctantly and I can only imagine what I look like. Lips swollen and moist, skin flushed and sweaty, my chest covered in the drying wax droplets.

He blows out the candle and sets it aside before he looks at his handiwork, one hand gliding along the hardened wax. I look down at the obscene sight of the white drops all over my chest and stomach, the large pool between my breasts and I shiver with the realization of what it looks like.

Finally, finally, his hand dips down between my thighs and slides through the wetness, and I can’t help as my hips lift of the bed, seeking closer contact, wanting his fingers to slip inside me, anything at this point to fill that aching emptiness.

He moves and settles between my legs, towering over me, dark and impossibly handsome in the dim lighting of the bedroom. One of his hands finds my throat, spanning it easily and he presses down lightly. Not enough to restrict my breathing, just to feel helpless, controlled, owned.

Then he drags his fingers down and his nails dig into my chest, pulling at the wax branding me, and when they scratch over the most sensitive part where the wax has gathered, he plunges two fingers of his other hand inside of me and I cry out.

The combination of pain and pleasure meets at my center, bursts behind my eyes, runs down into my extremities. He moves his fingers in and out, runs his nails over my stomach, my hips, my breasts, pulls at my nipples and I writhe against the bonds, my muscles constricting violently as he finally allows me to fall over the edge with a scream.

When I can focus again his lips are parted, his eyes locked onto my body and his fingers still move inside me, his thumb against my clit and despite just having climaxed the movement against the sensitive nerves builds up more tension yet again. Almost all of the wax is gone, replaced with red spots and long streaks over my torso and then his fingers dig into one breast and he sinks his teeth into the other and the violence of the orgasm makes my body rigid, has me pulling against the restraints and the noises leaving my throat can only be called obscene.

This time, as I come back down from my high, his movements soften, his fingers inside me move gently, as he is fully aware of every spasm he sends through my body. The other hand slides back up to my throat, resting there, cupping my jaw. His teeth find my earlobe and bite down, then his tongue instantly darts out to soothe the pain. His breath is hot when he speaks, his voice dark and dangerous. “I am going to fuck you. I will bury my cock inside your tight cunt and then you’ll come around me.”

His filthy words, only ever uttered in these most private moments hit their mark as they always do. They are shocking and vulgar and nothing has ever turned me on more than when he uses them. They make me whimper “yes, please.”

His fingers tighten around my throat, just enough to remind me that I am still at his mercy. “Please what?”

I swallow hard against the constriction before I can get out the words that would never leave my lips if it wasn’t for him. “Please fuck me, please use me.”

His length twitches where it is pressed against me and then our open mouths meet, tongues tangling, teeth clashing and moans escaping.

When he pulls back, he moves to undo the knots at my feet and then he finally slides inside me and it knocks the wind out of me. His hot length fills me just like I have craved all night and my legs wrap around him, drawing him closer. He sits back, pulling my hips to his, stretching me against the ropes at my wrists. A fine film of sweat is covering him as the muscles move underneath his skin. I am overcome with a need to run my tongue over him, but instead I am forced to just observe, drink him in as he lets go of his self-restraint at last, pushing into me forcefully. His fingers dig into my skin, certainly leaving bruises, both of us are panting and the sound of flesh against flesh mixes with our moans. His movements become faster and erratic, building towards another climax tearing through me. As my muscles clench and I scream once again, he joins me with one last deep thrust.

He falls forward, his hands next to my head, breathing hard. While remaining over me, he stretches to untie my arms and I instantly wrap them around him, ignoring the sting at my wrists. I stroke his shoulders, down his arms and then along his back and he places soft kisses along my jaw, my brow and nose and finally on my lips.

When he raises his head again we look into each other’s eyes.

Both smiling, both content, both very much in love. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you, as always, to my soulmate and stellar beta Klugtiger. My writing would be utter rubbish without you :)  
> Also huge thanks to AngryWarrior69 for the strong enthusiasm. ;)


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